


This Is The Prince

by reclusedetective (orphan_account)



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, M/M, a not-so modernish au, also it's fucking 2am in the morning what the hell am i doing, i know not the ways of tagging, this is totally inspired by the 1997 movie Anastasia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 08:30:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3481325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/reclusedetective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oakenshield is a douchebag of the highest order, Bilbo decides. </p><p>He <i>demands</i>, instead of asking. He scowls, and rarely ever smiles. </p><p>“Royalty, my <i>arse</i>,” Bilbo mutters viciously.</p><p>What’s worse is that he’s so very, <i>very</i> attractive, and that pisses Bilbo off <i>a lot</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is The Prince

**Author's Note:**

> [watches Anastasia]
> 
> [thinks of bagginshield because i’m shipper trash and i think of them only _all_ the damn time] 
> 
> [ideas start forming]
> 
> me: NO
> 
> me: [hisses wildly and attracts weird stares from family] I HAVE TO _WORK_ TOMORROW, DON’T DO THIS
> 
> me: DON’T YOU _DARE_ , SELF
> 
> me: DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE
> 
> [continues watching]
> 
> me: well fuck
> 
> Ya’ll are getting a one-shot, there are _fantastic_ modern royalty AUs out there, but here we are.
> 
> A _not_ -so modernish AU inspired by the 1997 movie Anastasia. 
> 
> [sighs pathetically]
> 
> I really, _really_ hope you enjoy. Knowledge of the movie is not required. (I'm 90% sure.) All mistakes are mine. And mine alone.

328 lives are lost when Smaug caused the great fire at the palace. The cunning lizard of a man _laughed_ as people screamed in fear and agony, he laughed as the palace _burned_.

Only three members of the royal family survived that day. The remainder of the Durin line perished in the hands of Smaug.

++++

The Durin Family has ruled Erebor for thousands of years. For Smaug to choose the date of Prince Thorin’s birthday, whereby a great celebration would be held at their second home in Ered Luin, was an unfortunate stroke of genius on the madman’s part.

++++

Queen Bel whispers soothingly in her daughter’s ears as Thorin shouts for Frerin. The smoke is getting thicker, and they need to get _out_.

“This way,” a small voice says, and she sees their young servant boy hugging the wall. He makes a victorious sound as he finds what he’s looking for, and a door opens.

“How--” Thorin asks, but stops himself. “Come, mama. We need to leave.”

He carries Dis on his back and grabs Bel's hand tightly.

“Come with us,” Bel implores of the servant boy.

The boy shakes his head vehemently. He meets Thorin’s eyes and they seem to reach a mutual understanding. The curly haired boy nods.

Thorin tugs her hand and the three of them escape the palace.

++++

Thorin pushes Dis up the moving train.

“Thorin, grab my hand,” she shouts desperately.

He runs faster, and his fingertips brush against his little sister’s. He tries to make a jump for it, but the icy ground makes him lose his footing and he _falls_.

His head hits the ice with a solid thud, and the last thing he hears is the anguished sound of his name from his sister’s lips.

++++

He awakes. There is a grimy piece of cloth covering him. There is a ring on his finger, with the words “Lonely Mountain” engraved on it.

He does not remember his name.

He does not remember _anything_.

++++

It has been ten long years since he was found on the side of the street with nothing but a ring as his personal belonging.

“Hey, Oakenshield! When are you leaving for Bree?”

The woman who took him in runs an orphanage. She does not appreciate his bluntness and stubbornness. She does, however, greatly value his skills when it comes to working with all things metal. Bree is where he’ll earn decent wage, she tells him. It’s where he can be independent and repay her kindness, she reminds him daily.

It’s utterly _hateful_.

++++

Oakenshield is the name he earns one cloudy morning; in which there is _another_ attempt at stealing his precious ring. This time, the thugs are tall and big, but he stares them down fearlessly.

Even as he’s pummeled and repeatedly beaten, he holds on to the last link to his past, and reaches out to the oaken branch lying on the ground. He uses it to shield himself. And he _attacks_.

From then on, everyone calls him Oakenshield, and no one dares bully him again. It also results in him being completely friendless.

 _Lonely_.

A word he _loathes_ , but an apt description of him nonetheless.

++++

He doesn’t head to Bree as suggested. He sets out for Erebor instead.

 _Erebor_.

It sounds like home.

++++

Getting to Erebor requires passing through Ered Luin.

“Sir, you need identification and travelling papers to get to Erebor.”

“But I don’t have them. Could I--”

“Sir, no papers, no entry. So I suggest you get some papers, _eh_? Next!”

He grits his teeth and counts till ten. He’s interrupted by a man with intricately styled braids. The man introduces himself as Dori.

“Look for Bilbo Baggins, sir. He’s the only one who can help you.”

“Bilbo Baggins?” He confirms.

“Aye, Bilbo will help you. Though, it wasn’t _me_ who told you this, eh?”

“Understood. Thank you, Master Dori.”

++++

“Listen up, lad. You have a good plan here,” declares Dwalin.

Bilbo nods.

“Yes, as I said, a _good_ plan. The Queen of Erebor is offering five million to whoever finds the long lost Crown Prince, and we’re looking for a lookalike to act as the prince.”

“Right on all counts.”

“Lookalike convinces the Queen, we get the reward, and we escape before anything happens to us.”

“That’s the plan.”

“Good plan.”

++++

Bilbo scratches his head tiredly.

Dozens have auditioned for the role of Crown Prince’s Double, but none have succeeded.

“We’ll never find anyone at this rate,” Dwalin contributes.

“Have faith, I know he’s _here_ somewhere.”

++++

“Are you Bilbo Baggins?”

Bilbo turns. A man with unkempt beard and sharp nose is what meets his eyes. The piercing blue eyes look _familiar_ somehow, and Bilbo shakes the thought away.

“Yes?”

“I need to get to Erebor.”

Bilbo can’t help but stare at the man. _Oh_.

“I see. My friend and I,” Bilbo pauses and shouts Dwalin’s name loudly, “are headed that way, actually, and we’ve got three tickets.”

The man looks pleased.

“One ticket for me, the other for Dwalin here, a lovely man once you get to know him, and the last one is for Prince Thorin Durin.”

The man scowls in response.

“So unless you’re the Prince, I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

“Do I look like royalty to you?” the man asks scornfully.

“No,” Bilbo admits. “ _Not_ with the beard, but you _do_ have his chin, the strong Durin nose, and well-- the eyes, too.”

Bilbo gestures to a picture of the prince, a picture which is _old_ and seems like it taken when the prince was under the age of ten.

“What’s your name?” Dwalin asks.

The bearded man hesitates.

“They call me Oakenshield.”

“And is that your first name, or last name?” Bilbo questions curiously.

“I-- I got up ten years ago with no name or memory, so it is just a name given to me.”

“It suits you,” assures Bilbo. “So you remember nothing of your past?”

Oakenshield shakes his head.

Dwalin grins. “So who’s to say you’re _not_ Thorin Durin?”

Oakenshield narrows his eyes distrustfully. He assesses the picture once more.

“Well, I _could_ be the Prince,” he says with confidence he doesn’t have.

“Your Royal Highness, we are at your service.”

++++

Oakenshield is a douchebag of the highest order, Bilbo decides.

He _demands_ , instead of asking. He scowls, and rarely ever smiles.

“Royalty, my _arse_ ,” Bilbo mutters viciously.

What’s worse is that he’s so very, _very_ attractive, and that pisses Bilbo off _a lot_.

++++

“Balin would be so excited to see you,” Dwalin confesses, “he said that the crown prince of Erebor was a _terror_ as a child.” The _like you_ is unsaid but very clearly heard.

“What are you implying, and who’s Balin?”

“Dwalin, shush,” Bilbo tries, attempting to do some damage control, because Dwalin was supposed to keep his mouth _shut_ about--

“Balin’s my brother. We’ll need to convince _him_ first if we want to meet the Queen.”

Damn.

“What.” Oakenshield says with a flat tone, a _dangerous_ tone, so Bilbo throws caution to the wind and responds eloquently.

“What?”

“How would I convince him when I don’t remember a _single_ fucking thing about myself?”

Bilbo and Dwalin look at each other with equally grave expressions. Bilbo sighs.

“Lesson One starts now.”

++++

Oakenshield is _great_ at horse-riding, sword-fighting, and most physical aspects of things.

Directions and geography? Well, not bad. (Pretty damn bad.)

Diplomacy? Don’t even _mention_ it, no, really, stay _far_ back and lose that train of thought right the fuck _now_.

++++

Bilbo hands the previously bearded man a set of new clothes.

++++

Oakenshield walks down the stairs and he looks _breathtaking_. Bilbo turns away to calm his frantically beating heart.

++++

“Okay, rumour says that you’re a great dancer. Let’s test that out.” Dwalin commands.

“I’m not dancing with him.” Bilbo says adamantly.

“Bilbo is saying that because he’s a miserable dancer,” Dwalin pronounces truthfully.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Oakenshield looks amused. Bilbo wants to throw either himself or Dwalin overboard.

He does neither, because Oakenshield places his left hand on Bilbo’s waist, and sweeps him away with a dance.

++++

“You taught Bilbo how to dance!” Dwalin cheers excitedly.

He is ignored by the two men, both of whom are still staring into each other’s eyes.

“Well, _shit_.”

++++

Oakenshield is a _fantastic_ dancer.

++++

Dwalin knocks the door. It opens, and before Bilbo is able to say anything, he sees Dwalin headbutting the Queen’s Advisor. It is a hard and painful headbutt.

It’s apparently how they say hello. Bilbo subtly takes a step back.

“So this is the Prince,” Balin proclaims.

Oakenshield resists the urge to stare at the ground.

++++

Balin laughs loudly.

“Many think that Prince Thorin would be a _professional_ with identifying places, but Geography _was_ the prince’s worst subject.”

“It’s _hard_ ,” he whines under his breath, and Bilbo hides a smile behind his hands.

++++

Finally:

“How did you escape the palace at Ered Luin?” Balin asks gravely.

Bilbo blanches. Dwalin looks at them with a frown.

“I remember-- I-- there was a boy who helped us. He… there was a secret passage he knew about and he led us there.”

Thorin hits his head once with his right hand. He growls.

“Where is he now? Did he escape with you?”

“No. I think-- he. He stayed behind.” With that said, Thorin refuses to speak any further.

Bilbo closes his eyes.

++++

“He’s Thorin Durin.”

“Yes, that was _amazing_. He has Balin convinced, and hell, even _I_ am.”

“No, listen to me. He _is_ Thorin Durin.”

“Aye, we did it, laddie.”

Bilbo grabs Dwalin’s arm and squeezes it hard, which surprises the bigger man.

“I was the servant boy.”

++++

“You have to tell him.”

“No.”

“Bilbo, you ha--”

“No. This is what’s best for him.”

“You’re making a big mistake, Bilbo.” Dwalin growls.

Bilbo takes a deep breath and stares into the distance.

“This will be the one _right_ thing I’ve done in my life.”

“Lad--”

“ _Enough_ , Dwalin. We have a party to get to.”

Bilbo smiles at Dwalin. It is a smile Dwalin never wants to see again.

++++

Balin lets Bilbo in to meet Queen Dis. They were informed earlier that Queen Bel passed on two years ago due to illness. Thorin had looked _devastated_ , and the image is unpleasantly branded into Bilbo’s mind.

“Your Majesty,” Bilbo announces, “I am here to present to you, the long lost Prince of Erebor, Thorin Durin.”

“Bilbo Baggins.”

Bilbo startles at the unexpected response.

“Oh, how did you--”

“Famous con artist from Ered Luin, the one who held auditions for the role of my _brother_.”

“Your Majesty, please--”

“You have no _honour_ , Master Baggins. For _years_ I have endured impostors, greedy deceivers who train and even perform surgery on the faces of men just for the reward. You have _no_ honour,” she repeats again viciously, and it feels like a slap across Bilbo’s face.

“Queen Dis, you don’t understand, this man, he _really_ is Thorin, please, just talk to him.”

“Guards.”

“I am _Baggins_ ," he shouts, "the servant boy who saved you. I showed you the secret passage, _you know who I am_ , please, Queen Dis, just _talk_ to him.”

“Leave!”

++++

Thorin stands outside with a blank look on his face. He watches Bilbo, who is still trying to get past the guards. When Bilbo spots him, Thorin sees the man’s face fall even further, and Thorin's chest _aches_.

“Thorin,” he says, but what he sees when he examines Thorin’s face makes him stop.

“You _liar_.” He tries and fails at not sounding betrayed, but he cruelly cherishes how his words causes Bilbo to physically flinch.

“Thorin, yes, it _started_ as a plot for money, but it hasn’t been for a _long_ time.” Bilbo admits quietly.

Thorin is filled with rage and he desperately wants to hit something, _anything_ , but the thought of hurting the man before him, the man he _adored_ , the man who betrayed him, is unthinkable. Despite everything, it is _unimaginable_.

He walks away.

++++

Bilbo finally manages to sneak past the guards and enters the Queen’s room. He locks the door and clears his throat.

“Have you come to demand for ransom, _Storyteller_?” Her voice is mocking and the title feels like a punch in his gut.

“I have this.”

The Arkenstone lies in his hand, and a gasp escapes Dis when she recognizes the stone for what it is.

“How--”

“It was hidden in the palace of Ered Luin and I found it.”

Dis straightens.

“How much do you want for it?”

“No, _no_.” He closes his eyes, pained by the harsh and ruthless words. “It belongs to _this_ family, and I am here to return it. Just-- _please_ , you owe me nothing, _nothing_ at all, Your Highness, but _please_ , talk to him.”

++++

There is a knock on his door.

“ _What_?” Thorin shouts, so angry, so frustrated over it all.

The door opens and the voice he hears shocks him.

“Charming temper you have there.”

“Oh. Your Majesty.”

“You _look_ like him, I must admit.”

Thorin doesn’t respond to that.

She eyes him warily for a moment, and sits on the chair at the corner of the room.

“Many have come to claim the reward, imposters and liars I have seen, but truly, you’re the most convincing of them all.”

“It was not my intention to deceive you.”

“Then why are you here?”

He doesn’t answer for a moment. And when he does, he sounds _tired_ ; utterly exhausted and alone.

 _Lonely_.

“Because I do not know who I am,” he hears himself say, “and-- I am looking for my family.”

“Do you know what this is?” Dis asks, the Arkenstone shining brightly in her palm.

“It’s--”

He frowns at it. Then, just as if he’s reciting a nursery rhyme, he says:

“The Arkenstone, stone of stones it may be, heart of hearts it is, the centre of Durin’s line.”

“ _Thorin_.”

When Thorin meets her eyes, his own are bright with recognition.

“You have grey hair, sister.”

She tackles him onto the ground with a hug.

“Brother, you have _returned_.”

++++

“Did you hear? The Crown Prince is back!”

“A miracle!”

“A broken family reunited, what a happy ending!”

Smaug hisses defiantly. _Tonight_. It ends tonight.

++++

“Pardon me, Your Majesty. You asked for me?”

“Master Baggins. Your reward of five million, as promised. You have my gratitude as well.”

“Sorry, Queen Dis, I cannot accept this.”

“It _is_ your reward.”

“No,” he says softly. “Thank you, but I have done enough.”

“Then tell me, Master Baggins, what can I offer you?”

“Offer me nothing, please.” He looks her in the eyes and endures the weight of her attention on him. “There is nothing you can offer me that I need.”

"I was harsh. I _am_ sorry."

He nods.

“I take my leave. Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“You… are a _good_ man,” she says sincerely.

Bilbo feels his heart beat sluggishly. He smiles without enthusiasm.

He leaves.

++++

Thorin studies the crowd before him. He is interrupted by his sister, his brave and wonderful _sister_.

“I’m glad you’re home.”

“I’m happy to be here.”

“ _Are_ you, though?”

“I am,” he replies firmly.

“To have you by my side again is a blessing I _cherish_ with every fibre of my being, but you need not _stay_ to be my brother. Your happiness is what matters most.”

“I will not leave you again.”

“I will not allow you to.”

She rests her head on his shoulders.

“It is your choice to make, but I can see that the crown is not what your _heart_ desires.”

His chest aches.

“He did not take the money,” she whispers.

Oh.

 _Oh_.

++++

“You will come back to visit, won’t you?”

Thorin kisses his sister’s forehead gently.

“Of course.”

“Now go get him. Also, you know that this is very _romantic_ of you, right?”

Thorin affectionately shows her a rude gesture and the sound of her laughter is the last thing he hears as he walks out the door.

++++

Thorin’s head is bleeding.

“Thorin, _Thorin_ , are you _alright_?”

“Bilbo?”

“Thorin, oh my god, I thought he _killed_ you.”

“You’re very handsome.”

“Fucking hell, you’ve gone blind.”

“There is _not_ one day that goes by without the both of you exasperatin’ the living hell out of me,” Dwalin contributes helpfully.

“Wha- happen’d?” Thorin asks. His head feels terribly heavy, but he feels _comfortable_. “Bilbo’s arms are highly recommended as it offers maximum comfort,” he tells himself hazily.

“ _Fuck_ , we need a healer. He’s freaking me out.” Bilbo says, but Dwalin just snorts in amusement.

Bastard.

++++

Smaug is caught spitting and snarling as he is escorted into the dungeon.

“Dungeon? _Really_?” Bilbo raises his eyebrows in distrust.

“That fucker deserves whatever’s coming to him,” Dis promises, with great criminal intent.

Bilbo gapes in horror at both the language and violence shown by the Queen of Erebor.

++++

“So everything’s alright with you two, then?” Dwalin questions insensitively.

“Fuck off,” Bilbo mutters.

“You little shit,” Thorin adds.

“The royal family really needs to work on their language,” Dwalin concludes.

Dis appears out of nowhere.

“What are you assholes doing in here?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> [collapses]
> 
> Reviews are greatly appreciated and are like fuel that keeps me going. Kudos are adored and deserving of lollipops.
> 
> If you have any questions about the plot, do ask. I wrote a sorta-kinda detailed background info and there _are_ reasons to most little details in there, but I haven't the time to fit it in the story. 
> 
> PS: You guys WILL NEVER convince me to expand on this, (if you do like it for some strange, mysterious reason).
> 
> PPS: who am i kidding, you guys have great power against me, ask and you shall receive etc etc


End file.
